


Keeping Time

by sparklight



Category: Slayers (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Drama, Family, Family Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, impending doom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-04 05:25:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 11,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6643087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklight/pseuds/sparklight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moments in time in Zelgadis' childhood. Or; Rezo's diminishing time as counted through Zelgadis growing up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

His granddaughter has been screaming intermittently for six hours before her hoarse wheezing is joined by a new protest. Higher, more of a shriek; the most quintessential protest to greeting life one could imagine. While her husband and the midwife deals with the baby, he turns around in his seat, settles one hand on a sweaty brow and the other low on his granddaughter's stomach and whisper a healing spell.

The tension runs out of her and the hand gripping his wrist meanders over to cupping his face, as if _he_ is the child instead of her (by relation, if not age), is stronger than it had been before, no longer trembling.

"It's a boy. Oh, grandpa, I have---" She chokes up; tears, fears and new relief all tangling together with her exhaustion. He takes her hand and squeezes it, then lets go as her husband approaches.

"Hush, Riza."

She laughs as she turns to her husband, there's muttered words between the two of them, and he wouldn't be surprised if he's forgotten for now - it doesn't matter. They've been trying for four years, with two miscarriages, and each have taken a toll on his granddaughter. It's the reason he hasn't left for nine months, this time. The reason he made sure not to plan a trip until _after_ Riza had her new baby in her arms, _both of them_ safe and sound.

"Grandpa, here," Riza says and then he has to scramble a little, honestly surprised - but he knows how to hold babies, and he doesn't need to _see_ for his hands to do his work for him and to properly adjust the blanket-wrapped bundle.

The small head is soft in his hand, there's quiet breathing and its like holding a little furnace.

Some hard, angry-red tension that has been building over the last nine months, frustration over delaying possible research while helping people as he gathers it, bleed away, then. Carefully, he finds the newborn's round little face, and while it's all too early to know what the baby will look like when he's older, there's a realness in the soft skin, the chubby cheeks, and the wisps of hair on the skull.

"It's paler than yours, but if it doesn't change, no one's going to miss you're related," Reynard says with amusement from somewhere on the other side of the bed, judging by the distance, and he smiles. 

"Maybe he'll escape the _hair_ , though," Riza says, a little huff in her exhausted voice, and the angry red is nearly all gone by now; he could just as well have imagined it.

"Still upset your father passed it onto you while not being stuck with it himself, Riza?" he says quietly, following the wisps of hair - barely enough to be more than a thin halo on the baby's skull - with amusement. Impossible to tell if his new great grandson has 'the hair' as both his son and granddaughter has dubbed it.

"I suit in braids," she says, though the intended haughty sniff gets lost in a tired sigh.

It is time for him to leave, he can tell; Riza needs to rest, the baby is shifting in his hands and both his granddaughter and her husband should bond with the baby. The thought about the baby makes him tilt his head despite that he can't see it and he can admit he's... reluctant, to hand over the newborn. But he certainly cannot keep him, and he is not staying, so hand him over he will. 

There's one more question, however; one he hasn't asked until now, in case things took an undesired turn again. He does know they have talked about it, however, and he hopes they have settled on something already so he doesn't have to wait until he returns to find out. Standing up, he hands the baby over with an ease borne of knowing where the bed is and where Riza is on it rather than seeing her. Reynard helps getting the boy settled at Riza's breast as he's starting to fuss.

"What's his name?"

"Zelgadis."

He can hear the smile in his granddaughter's voice, the tired, aching one that's nonetheless happy, and it draws one out of him as well.

His son may not be able to be here, but Riza has found a way to incorporate him into his grandson's life anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The baby grows up, shows some particularities, and both Rezo and Zelgadis overcome them.

Zelgadis grows, and as much as he doesn't intend to, he comes back to visit at least once every half a year, structuring his travels around it, much like he had done for his twins, and for Riza. The quiet, red frustration in the back of his head, that pushes against his eyes, gets somewhat harder to ignore every time. Especially as, at every visit, he's reminded of what he's missing by dint of being unable to _see it_ , regardless of how much he's missing by simply not being present every day.

It's as much a driving force as the desire to be able to see sunlight, the faces of the children and adults he helps, the colours around him.

He misses the two-and-half year mark, getting the letter from his granddaughter too late to simply extend his travel without returning home; Riza and Reynard have gone to visit Reynard's parents. He understands it, of course, but it's hard to ignore the reflexive stab through him that leaves him clutching his staff hard enough his knuckles ache.

But perhaps it's just as well - Riza never likes it when he is like... _this_ , when he can't quite hide the frustration and bitterness over being unable to see, over missing things even when he's right there. 

She will see nothing when he comes by next time, and while he promises himself he'll come back in a year this time, it _still_ is only half a year later he steps into his granddaughter's home to high, childish laughter and his daughter-in-law chuckling quietly.

Things go quiet when they notice him, and he can feel her heavy, judging stare on him.

She never warmed up to him, really. Respected him for what he did for others? Oh, absolutely. In awe of his powers and how he chose to use them? That too. But there'd always been a _distance_ , especially after his daughter left. For some reason she had always seemed to think he had something to do with it directly, aside from the fact that Zeldara had always been... contentious, and they had never quite agreed on a lot of things.

She left, and he honestly has no idea where she might be, and if his son knew where his twin was, he never told _him_. If his daughter created herself a new life somewhere, under a new name (it wouldn't surprise him, the way she often claimed she had nothing to do with him), he simply doesn't know, and hasn't made the attempt to find out.

Perhaps that, more than anything else, has been what sits wrong with his daughter-in-law, but that's not really his problem. His children are his children, yes, but they have chosen their own lives. Zelgadis is no longer around, hasn't been for more than ten years, and Zeldara... well. 

He doesn't know.

"Grandpa!" Riza bursts into the room in a flurry of steps, breaking the tense silence of the stare he and his daughter-in-law aren't, exactly, sharing. It's not as if he has more than a general idea of where she is, though her slight presence helps to pinpoint her, of course. "Zelgadis, do you want to come say hello to your grandfather?"

She hugs him and then turns around, hand still on his arm. There's a moment of silence, and then light, hesitant steps, stopping right in front of him. The hand he holds out is avoided, and Riza sighs. He pretends not to feel... anything.

"Hi," the boy mumbles and then suddenly bursts away, though clearly not in his grandmother's direction _either_ , if he's judging things right.

"A moment, Mom," Riza says with that same sigh as earlier - worried, he can tell. His daughter-in-law huffs and says nothing, and he lets himself be led away - probably the sunroom, given the direction.

"Don't take it too hard, grandpa," his granddaughter says, and now she's twisting the cloth of his cloak in one hand like she used to do when she was ten and anxious or afraid. It settles the angry red tension that's started to build a little, redirects his attention. "Zelgadis... I don't know. Even I and Reynard can hardly hug him sometimes, he blushes and squirms away awful fast like he's embarrassed and shy and doesn't even know us and I _don't know_ \---"

Ah.

"Riza. Breathe." He takes his own advice and squeezes her shoulder. "Some children are like that. Zeldara barely let anyone touch her either. Usually your father could, but often not even him. He doesn't love you any less, and you aren't doing anything wrong."

It's as much of a relief to _him_ as it's to his granddaughter to hear him say that, apparently. Even if he'd wish it wasn't so, because he would like to know what the boy _looks like_ , and descriptions can only do so much without touch, for him.

"He has your hair, you know," Riza says, and he can hear the tiny smile in her voice, before she turns away as Zelgadis comes running in, laughing, his father close on his heels.

Three days later, a day after his daughter-in-law has gone and he's sitting, late in the evening and reading, there's a quiet little shuffle of feet that stops by the armrest of his chair. He puts the book down and halts the reading spell, tilting his head in Zelgadis' direction.

"Shouldn't you be asleep, Zelgadis?"

"Umm..." There's a shift of feet and cloth and he can easily imagine the guilty little squirm - it's more than familiar enough, after all.

"Bad dreams?" It seems the most possible answer, but why Zelgadis would go to him - even if he's the only one awake at the moment - and not his parents, he doesn't know.

"No," Zelgadis says, with a little huff that's more than familiar from his granddaughter, then another squirming pause, "I... um." Then there's a tiny hand on his own, then the other one, both tugging. He follows the motion, and when his fingers are brushing baby-smooth skin, he slides out of the chair and kneels in front of his great grandson.

The child stands still - or tries to, there's a squirm here and there - while he lets his grandfather map out his features; round cheeks, the nose that might suggest to start straightening out, though it's too early to tell, chin and eyebrows and the fluff of hair. Wilder than his own or his granddaughter's, or even his twins'. That hair is all Reynard's, aside from the stubborn shape of it, which is, indeed, 'the hair' as Riza calls it.

Finally, he cups Zelgadis' cheek, all tension from the last half year and more gone, despite that he can't _see_ what he's feeling. He doesn't tense when the child moves away, having expected it, and as such he is honestly surprised when tiny arms are thrown over his shoulders and around his neck.

The hug doesn't last long, and he makes sure the hand he has on Zelgadis' back is easily squirmed away from.

"Thank you, Zelgadis."

"Uh-huh." It's a mumble only, but he can hear the smile in it - tries and can't ignore the choking, red-hot stab that goes through him at the wish of being able to _see it_ \- and is once again surprised by a brief pat of a tiny hand on his cheek before Zelgadis runs away, hopefully back to his bed. He sits back in his chair only long minutes after the room has gone quiet and he's heard a door close (presumably Zelgadis' bedroom), but doesn't pick the book up again.

He stays long enough to celebrate Zelgadis' third birthday a month later, and then leaves again. Partly because he feels it's time to move, partly because the longer he stays, the more anxious both Riza and Reynard seem to get, despite that they're also happy he's spending time with both them and Zelgadis.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zelgadis - and half of Atlas - gets sick. Sure that's not familiar..?

Zelgadis is five, six in spring, and it's in the middle of a truly awful winter and he's five weeks from Atlas when his granddaughter contacts him.

Her projection through the Vision is rather washed out, apparent to him only in the way her voice comes across a little echoing. That doesn't alarm him, since it is, really, to be expected; she has learned a few handful of useful spells, but she's not really a spellcaster of any sort. What's far more worrying is the defeated, exhausted tone in her voice, which implies she looks as terrible as she sounds.

"Grandpa, how far from Atlas are you? Zelgadis is sick and nothing has helped. Reynard had to leave to go help his mother two days ago, she fell sick with the same, and half the city seems struck by this. Can you _please_ come home?"

Fear slams through the initial frustration of having his research delayed again, pushing away the crimson tension that's built up as the winter storms have gotten worse.

"You should've called me sooner," he says, hears the harsh tone and catches himself, "I'll come. Are _you_ all right, Riza?"

"... I'm not sick," she says, and sounds near tears.

It takes him three days to get back to Atlas, and the moment he takes his granddaughter in his arms (or rather, after she has practically flung herself at him as she hasn't done in _years_ , snow still caked on him), he can tell 'not sick', is just 'not sick _yet_ '. Still, not sick yet means there's time, and time is something they don't know if _Zelgadis_ has.

He forces Riza into bed before he goes to Zelgadis, however, simply because she can't help him _or_ Zelgadis right now. The boy, when he comes into his room, has apparently not gotten through his 'no pyjamas' stage yet, no matter that that would undoubtedly help at present. He walks through no less than _three_ different sets of pyjamas spread over the floor, probably flung there the moment Zelgadis was able to and Riza not having the time or energy to pick them up.

"How are you feeling, Zelgadis?" He takes the chair his granddaughter has been using, and Zelgadis doesn't so much as flinch as he reaches for him; testament to how awful he's no doubt feeling. He's burning up, and his whole face is slightly swollen.

"... bad," Zelgadis mutters, his voice hoarse, but then stubbornly continues in spite of that, "can you fix it? And then Mom and Grandmom and _everyone else_?" The question is as much belief as it's worried hope, and he takes a breath.

"I'll certainly try."

To be honest, he's not sure he can. He's seen this fever before, and it's been difficult to treat even then, might be more so now. But he is certainly not about to let his great grandson or granddaughter (or anyone else, though it may be useful to know the full course of this sickness) die.

It takes four days only for Zelgadis and Riza to finally get back on their feet, and by then his daughter-in-law has died. He can still save the majority of the sick in Atlas, and gets more than enough opportunity to study the whole course of the fever. To be able to create a better cure, of course. The red whispers at the back of his head aren't even noticed.

Not really.

But Reynard is watching him by the end of it, eyes narrowed, and he catches Riza in a whispered conversation with her husband two weeks later, one they cut off as they notice him. He tells himself it doesn't matter, and listening to Zelgadis' happy chatter about how he'd like to help him help people when he grows up certainly makes it easier to ignore it.

But still, when he leaves - for his mansion in Sairaag this time, not immediately on a trip - a week after that, after the funeral of his daughter-in-law, there's a tension hanging in the house that hasn't been quite that strong before. 

It makes the pressure behind his eyes itch.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zelgadis' mother isn't well, and while that gets solved, it's not the end of it.

Mom isn't well.

Zelgadis can tell, and he's not sure whether to blame the growing bulge in her belly or not. He also is starting to feel bad about having thrown that tantrum two weeks ago and having been short with both Mom and Dad since then, but he _really_ doesn't want a sibling. It doesn't matter if it's a sister or a brother, he doesn't want to _share_.

Mom and Dad are _his_ parents, and maybe... maybe he's worried they'll like whatever's in Mom's belly better than him. It's not as if he doesn't notice the way Mom blinks and her expression falls a little, ever time he doesn't stay still long enough when she wants to hug him or touch him - or even when _he_ wants to do that - and what if the baby doesn't feel the same nervous awkwardness? The same slow (sometimes not so slow) bubble of embarrassment because he doesn't know how long he should stay here, he feels weird watching their faces go soft and warm, even if he also likes it and he _just doesn't know_ what to do.

And if the baby isn't like that, and they'll be able to hug and kiss and touch it as much as they want, they'll like it better than they like him.

So he doesn't know whether to angrily blame the baby in Mom's belly or feel bad about being angry, about feeling like they're going to like this baby better, about... everything going on right now. Especially when Mom stops being able to get out of bed, and _why_ hasn't Dad sent some sort of message for Grandfather yet? If he hasn't in a few days, _he_ will, because Grandfather can fix _anything_.

He doesn't have to send his message; Grandfather appears the next day, and doesn't seem to mind the way he squirms away from the brief touch he let him drop on his head on the way to Mom's room. That's what he likes about Grandfather; he doesn't seem to _mind_ , not really, when Zelgadis doesn't stay still, and he seems all too happy when they do touch, however short it lasts.

(That makes it far easier to let his grandfather pick him up than letting his parents do it, even if they don't do that much anymore since he's seven now.)

Standing in the doorway, now, staring as Grandfather bends over Mom, his kind face scrunched up into concern, Zelgadis is starting to feel very, very bad about having blamed the baby. But he's still angry about what it's doing to his mom. He's also feeling bad about having been short with Mom and Dad in the last two weeks.

What if, _if_ Grandfather can't help her? What if---

"Come on, Zelgadis. Let your grandfather work," Dad murmurs as he comes up, a hand briefly on his shoulder and gently turning him around, letting go when he follows the motion. He then squats down to look him in the eyes, "help me make lunch for them?"

Lunch, which Mom probably won't eat, even if she will _try_. But Grandfather will need something to eat too, and maybe he can help Mom enough she'll be able to eat.

"Okay," he says, nodding. Even takes Dad's hand, pretends the sudden squeeze doesn't make him feel that hot heat in his stomach he doesn't know what to do with as they walk down the corridor. "Will Mom be okay?"

"Your grandfather will do everything he can, Zel. I have all faith she will be," Dad says with a smile, but his eyes are dark. Zelgadis trusts his dad, trusts his _grandfather_ , but doubt lies low in his belly. What if the baby doesn't _let_ Grandfather help Mom?

Two days later and there is no more belly, no more _baby_ (Zelgadis is both relieved and feeling guilty he's relieved about that), but Mom is still looking exhausted. At least he's allowed near the bed, now, and he can't help himself, so he hugs her. He blushes at the expression he catches on her face when he pulls back, but it pleases him as well.

"Perhaps you should let me take Zelgadis for a while, Riza," Grandfather says, raising his head from where he'd been leaning in concentration over her - Zelgadis had to hug _around_ him and had been careful not to disturb him. For some reason Mom frowns at that, hand groping for his. He hesitates, confused, ends up patting it; maybe she's just worried he'll disappear like the baby did. 

He won't.

"Grandpa, it's _fine_ , I'll be on my feet in a week or so, and Reynard---"

"Needs rest as well. And you _won't_ be back on your feet in a week, Riza," Grandfather is frowning now, arms crossed under the fall of his cloak. The sunlight falling through the window makes it look like freshly spilled blood, almost glowing, "it took you two weeks the first time and more than a month the second time, and you're older now."

He pauses and then smiles, the severe expression on his face smoothing out into gentle humour.

"I promise I remember how to take care of children, Riza, and Zelgadis is old enough to tell me what he wants if I forget something," Grandfather turns his head slightly, angling it to, if he could actually see, catch Zelgadis' gaze and he nods, smiling. "You and Reynard need to relax and focus on each other for a bit, and it won't help either of you if he has to take Zelgadis to his grandparents. That's at least two weeks, _one way_."

Mom is frowning, looking paler already, and Dad shifts in the doorway, opening his mouth - but Mom gets there before him, and she catches his hand and squeezes it. He blushes, but squeezes back; she's still sick and he doesn't want to disappoint her.

"Would you _want_ to go with your grandfather, Zel?" The way she phrases that is like he shouldn't, like _she_ doesn't want him to, and Zelgadis snaps his mouth closed over the enthusiastic reply. Glancing from Mom's pale, dark-eyed face, to Dad's frown and Grandfather's concerned expression, he takes a breath.

"Yeah. You just focus on getting better, okay, Mom? I'll be good," he says, smiling at her, pushing away all his guilt and shame and worry. Mom nods and smiles weakly at him.

"Then off you go."

Zelgadis is sure he must have imagined Dad's muttered 'it's not _you_ we're worried about being good', because that doesn't make sense at all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zelgadis asks about his mother's issues, Rezo redirects. With an apple.

Zelgadis would be excited about this trip, but he's worried about Mom. It takes two hours on the road before he stops looking back, but at this point he tugs Grandfather's robe and quietly asks what he meant by that it took Mom two weeks the first time and more than a month the second time, because he doesn't _have_ siblings.

Grandfather is silent for a long time, but then he tilts his head, the sun high above casting his face into shadow - the red of his cloak and robe reflects ruddily on his pale skin.

"If things had gone differently, you would have had older siblings, Zelgadis," he says quietly, seriously. Zelgadis has no idea what to think about that, isn't even sure he wants to know, precisely, how much those two other times are similar to _this one_ , or how and why things went differently with _him_ , but he opens his mouth - and then blinks, biting into an apple Grandfather has just pushed into his mouth.

"You can ask about that in a few years, if you want to know more, Zelgadis. You don't really want to know right now, do you?" The faint smile on Grandfather's face is as much teasing as it's knowing, and he huffs, takes another bite out of the apple and shakes his head, but remembers to respond out loud as well.

"Not really." It's easier to admit it when his grandfather clearly already _knows_ he doesn't really want to know, because he's already wondering about the what if if things had gone wrong with him, or--- He shakes his head, finishes the apple, and can finally, sort of, enjoy the trip.

It takes them four days longer than it should to reach Sairaag, if only because Grandfather keeps insisting to make stops, but considering how happy the people he helps are, Zelgadis doesn't mind. He starts whispering descriptions of what their relieved and happy expressions look like in Grandfather's ear on the second day, and he feels pretty proud over the way he can see the broad shoulders relax a little when he does this.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zelgadis and Rezo spends the summer together, and then things come tumbling down.

It's far easier to incorporate Zelgadis into his daily life than he thought.

Not that Zelgadis hasn't visited his home in Sairaag before, but all but one of those times were with his parents present and being responsible for him. The singular time they hadn't been... ah, that had been a week during last summer, in which, when he'd made his usual visit, Zelgadis had asked him if he could come visit _him_ for a bit. He'd agreed, of course, though he'd expected Zelgadis' following badgering of his parents to be to convince them to come with.

Instead he'd somehow convinced them to let him go to Sairaag with his great grandfather alone, leaving Riza and Reynard in Atlas.

It had been a curious week where he'd had to remember how to _actually_ take care of a child properly, and not just baby sitting Zelgadis for a while, as that was distinctly different. It hadn't been particularly _hard_ , though perhaps owing to the fact that Zelgadis was a pretty serious child in general, aside from his optimistic and rather sweet nature.

What _had_ been surprisingly difficult was keeping Zelgadis out of the libraries. 

Not that he wasn't familiar with the boy's lust for knowledge, but he'd always had more time to prepare during any other visit, and there'd always been his granddaughter or Reynard close to steer the boy away if necessary. He _has_ gotten used to Zelgadis invading those quiet spaces, however, so it's less... startling, this time around.

And, frankly, somewhat easier on him, since Zelgadis can stay still for at least a few hours if given books that hold his interest, and it's always interesting to find what topics _will_ do so. And what topics he will, after sticking his nose in a given book, almost immediately exclaim over and throw his grandfather an exasperatedly offended stare that he thought the book was acceptable to give to him.

Making things even easier, he has added a very competent weapons' master to his retinue in the last few months, and Zelgadis is all too happy to sit somewhere - against the wall of the training hall if it's raining, out on the fence if Rodimus in the yard if it's not - and watch the man go through his paces, asking questions about the weapons or fighting.

Of course, Zelgadis being present means he can't go on any longer trip, which is... frustrating, and that frustration burns deep inside in the late hours, and colours the darkness behind his eyelids red as he presses the heels of his hands against his eyes. 

It lightens whenever he brushes against a book _he_ didn't leave out and which Zelgadis has forgotten to put back. It eases back whenever he checks that the boy is in his bed, _sleeping_ , when he's about to go for his own, brushing a hand over that fluffy hair. It practically evaporates when Zelgadis takes the book he was reading and starts reading out loud, his concentrated frown easily audible in his voice as he stumbles over too-long words or words he's unfamiliar with.

It will not last, but it helps. They make a two-week trip around the countryside surrounding Sairaag about a month into Zelgadis' stay, something he hasn't done in a few decades, and while it gives him nothing new to follow, the laughter of happy children, and Zelgadis' voice in his ear as he does his best describing smiles and relief further keeps the ache away.

More or less, anyway.

Zelgadis talks with his parents every week, which helps assuage Riza and Reynard's worries and soothes Zelgadis' homesickness, which means ten Vision spells, which he doesn't mind. There's a tension in Riza's voice as the weeks grow, and a tiredness which doesn't ease, however, but neither she nor Reynard ask him to visit, even _without_ Zelgadis, so whatever healer they have on hand surely have things under control.

The eleventh Vision conversation doesn't happen.

Zelgadis is nearly vibrating beside him when the spell doesn't connect properly, and he lays a hand on top of his head for a moment.

"We'll try again tomorrow, I'm sure nothing is wrong."

The next day yields the same result, and by the third, Zelgadis is trying to hide tears, which he can tell mostly by the way his voice catches when he tries to insist he's all right. Clearly he's not, and perhaps, Rezo admits, they should've left yesterday.

They leave early on the fourth day, another Vision gone without it being responded to, and he resolves to have Zelgadis wait outside the house when they get back to Atlas, in case what's inside isn't for the eyes of a seven year old. Even if Zelgadis insists he's _soon eight, Grandfather!_ , because that 'soon' is more than half a year away. Either way even eight isn't ten, isn't even _fifteen_.

His great grandson is _far too young_.

For what, aside from possibly seeing his parents dead, Rezo can't put his finger on, and it doesn't matter, really. In fact, the thought is quickly forgotten in trying to keep Zelgadis' mood up through their trip back to Atlas.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's happened to Zelgadis' parents, and, relatedly, how Zelgadis comes to stay with Rezo for longer than two summer months.

For the whole last hour until they reach his house, Zelgadis feels increasingly like he's going to throw up.

Something is _wrong_ , he's utterly sure about it, and the lengthening shadows doesn't help. The sun is low and red, and Grandfather seems haloed in blood when they finally reach the house and he _can't stand it any longer_. He dashes past, but he's barely put his his foot on the first step of the stairs up to the door when there's a hand on his shoulder, clenching down hard and holding him still.

"Let _go_! I have to, I---" he clamps his mouth shut, embarrassed by the tears on his face, in his _voice_. The grip softens, and Grandfather squeezes his shoulder, then makes him turn around. His grandfather kneels down, the rings on the staff jingling with the movement, loud in the twilight - few people are out on the streets now, most of them at home and eating.

The dying sunlight catches in the red gem on the staff, and something in Zelgadis' stomach turns, because it looks... wrong. He quickly looks away and down into Grandfather's pinched, kind face.

"You have to promise me you'll stay down here, Zelgadis," he says, the frown on his face deepening, "if you can't, I'll cast Sleeping right now."

The threat is real, and Zelgadis' intention to _promise_ but to follow him as soon as he can be sure Grandfather wouldn't notice dies instantly. He's even more worried now, considering Grandfather wants him to stay down here _already_ , but he doesn't want to wait to learn if something is wrong. But how bad does he think it is, _why_ does he think it's bad, why didn't Zelgadis ask if they could've left the second day instead of after the third?

Zelgadis shakes his head and takes a deep, gulping breath, squaring his shoulders.

He's seven, soon eight (okay, not 'soon' at all), and he won't cry.

"Okay. I promise. I'll stay down here."

The hand on his shoulder tightens for a brief moment, and the slim eyebrows knot, then Grandfather nods.

"All right. Go sit in the sunroom while I check the rest of the house."

He nods, slowly, then remembers Grandfather can't _see that_ , and mumbles an assent. They get the door open, and he follows right behind Grandfather into the empty sunroom. He shuffles, reluctantly, over to the big wingchair by the huge windows while his grandfather watches - or _keeps watch_ , at any rate, clearly listening and only nodding after he's crawled up and settled in the chair.

The rings jangle again as Grandfather turns around and leaves, and his stomach flops uneasily. The sunlight through the windows cast a red - not bloody, don't think like that - stripe across the floor, all the way over to catch the last sweep of the red cloak before his grandfather leaves the doorway and turns down the corridor.

Zelgadis wants to call him back, suddenly, and he doesn't even know why, but he grits his teeth and digs his fingers into one of the wingchair's cushions, clutches it close. He can't call Grandfather back, because he needs to check the house. But it's silent now, aside from the distant echo of the rings on the staff jangling, and Zelgadis feels very, very alone.

The house is too silent, too _still_.

There's dust on the round little table by the wingchair, and dust motes dancing lazily in the air, glimmering like gold in the last sunlight that's struggling over the tops of the roofs to fall through the windows.

Something is wrong, and Zelgadis wishes he hadn't left at all, because what if he could've helped? What if _Grandfather_ could have? But he seemed sure Mom only needed to rest, otherwise, he knows, he wouldn't have left at all, with or without Zelgadis. 

He wants to check the house himself. 

Wants to find his grandfather, his _parents_. 

Wants a hug, wants to smell the particular warm, soft scent that clings to his mom's hair, to feel the calluses on his dad's hands catch on his cheek, wants---

"Zelgadis."

He jerks, twisting around in the chair to stare up at his grandfather, and the question on his tongue dies.

Grandfather leans the staff against the wall, and kneels down again, holding a hand out. He doesn't hesitate to scramble off the chair, the cushion falling forgotten to the floor as he runs into his grandfather's arms, and this time he doesn't squirm away as the hug lengthens. The only feeling in his stomach is a slow, sick twisting that tangles up into a thorny ball.

"I think," Grandfather says quietly in his ear, a hand in his hair, moving gently, "that your father might have been carrying the fever in his body until now, despite that I checked to make sure, since he was one of the few who didn't get sick. I'm sorry, Zelgadis."

He tries to hold the tears back, but gives up after two choked breaths, burying his face in the crook of his grandfather's neck. When Grandfather stands up, he still hasn't let go, and Zelgadis doesn't care, and doesn't - can't - say anything as he's carried out of the house.

He's pretty sure he won't be able to sleep at all, even after they find an inn since they aren't staying at... at the house. But he's cried himself out and the bed is soft and Grandfather is sitting nearby, head turned towards the window. Zelgadis falls asleep with his face buried in the mattress and clutching Grandfather's hand.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zelgadis starts some of his education, and there is a jar.

Autumn and winter moves at a crawl, and Zelgadis is, understandably, miserable. There's more than one nightmare, but the first one is distinctly different from the rest, for some reason. His parents aren't in it, his empty home isn't either. All he will say when he turns up at the study is that there was 'red light'. By spring, both Rezo and Zelgadis have forgotten about it, and while his great grandson's eight birthday is somewhat... rocky, things get better.

Better, which means Zelgadis is, as usual, quickly squirming away, blushing, from a gentle hand on his cheek or hair, or from hugs. It's... _almost_ a relief, actually. Better, which means it's easier to get Zelgadis into bed and staying there the whole night, instead of waking up at some point. Better, which means he's showing more interest in his usual pursuits again.

Rodimus has made Zelgadis a proper wooden practice sword suited for an eight-year old's hands and height, and the boy has responded, hesitantly but somewhat favourably, towards the idea of studying magic. That topic will be left aside for a bit, however. Rezo uses the time given to go back through books and research he hasn't finished or read at all, so focused on simply getting _more_ lately. More, all in the hope of a cure... or a lead towards the Philosopher's Stone.

It's this, along with teaching Zelgadis basic magical theory and cosmology, that leads him towards a new possibility.

They're going through the plane chart one early summer's day, one god, demon lord and each of Ceipheed's Dragon Lords and Ruby Eye's retainers in turn when they come to Hellmaster. Hellmaster, and his curious ability...

Not that he brings _that_ up to Zelgadis in this lesson, but it sparks a memory of some theory he was reading during winter. After Zelgadis is in bed that evening, he goes back to his laboratory and finds the book, as it certainly isn't one of the ones he will leave around the house any longer. Zelgadis is far too good at finding books he doesn't want him to read, even if, for quite a few of them, they're far too dry or densely written for them to keep Zelgadis' interest, as of yet.

Thank the gods for small favours.

His memory proves true, but the 'theory' is more 'vague speculation' than anything else. No matter. It does give him somewhere to start on his own, which is all he needs. And it's a very interesting idea, besides.

The first iterations are all useless, of course, and this will probably take _years_ , but Rezo finds that the deep red frustration in the pit of his stomach isn't quite so pressing at that thought as it at first felt it like it would be - mostly because he's suddenly having to dash across the room, grabbing Zelgadis' hand away from one of those 'first iterations'.

"Don't touch that, Zelgadis!"

The boy twitches, but the surprise isn't long-lasting.

"It's just a _jar_ , Grandfather. An ugly one too," Zelgadis says, a clear curl of confused distaste in his voice, "why would you enchant an ugly jar?"

He lets out his next breath slowly, gently squeezing the hand he's grabbed and lets go when Zelgadis pulls on it a little, indicating he wants it back. He doesn't, at least, go for the jar again.

"It's an _experiment_ , and while it was a failure, I would rather not want to find out what a failure would do to my favourite grandson," he says, real anxiety and red tension bleeding away from him, "and while failure is important on the way to success---"

"Grandfather..." there's wary exasperation in Zelgadis' voice, as if he knows what is coming. Which he probably does.

"The real success is knowing when to stop and smell the roses."

"That's _not_ how that goes!" Full-blown annoyance this time, and an exasperated huff that's familiar. Briefly, his mind goes to his granddaughter, but then that memory is pushed aside. Zelgadis is tapping a foot against the floor, and he's probably crossed his arms over his chest. On an impulse, he reaches out - Zelgadis ducks, but then steps back in range, allowing him a few, precious moments to map out the slowly maturing facial features.

"You've got your mother's chin," he says, and apparently he will not escape from thoughts of Riza at the moment. Zelgadis draws a sharp breath in, then nods, right before he lets his hand fall away from the boy's face. "And, I believe, my nose."

"And your _hair_ ," Zelgadis adds, only a slight catch in his voice.

Rezo smiles, and, deciding it's time to get Zelgadis out of the study, suggests lunch.

Zelgadis finds no more 'ugly jars' in the house, and forgets about them.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eris makes her entrance. Zelgadis is unimpressed.

Zelgadis is nine, almost ten, and he doesn't know what he thinks about this _Erisiel Vrumugun_ that Grandfather has pulled in to help him research white magic.

She's nice, he supposes.

Maybe.

Which probably isn't very fair, but Zelgadis doesn't want to share his grandfather more than necessary, and he has to share with the rest of the world enough as it is.

Not that he sees a lot of her, particularly to start with. It doesn't make her any less _around_ , though, and he's _seen_ the way she looks at Grandfather, that one time she helped carry books to the house from the laboratory, which Zelgadis hasn't seen at all and isn't allowed into. He doesn't even know where it is, because so far he has neither been told where it is, nor managed to follow his grandfather unnoticed.

It's not _fair_ , because _he_ can totally help too!

Grandfather points out that while he's been doing well studying his theory, he doesn't know any spells yet (and maybe he would, already, if he didn't let Rodimus' swords lessons take up more of his time when he's not reading). Zelgadis can't help but pout at that, but decides - if his grandfather can actually take some time away from his research and _Eris_ \- to actually do better.

One rainy late spring day, which has meant Grandfather and Eris has, for once, been in the study instead of the laboratory, he pulls Grandfather away, and, with a bit of advice, manages to pull off his first Lighting.

It's a tiny, simple thing that isn't very impressive, but the hand on his shoulder is warm and Zelgadis feels proud.

He doesn't even mind Eris in the doorway, making suspiciously _mooning_ eyes at Grandfather. When she notices him looking, however, she turns to him, arches an eyebrow challengingly... and then smiles, surprisingly gently, and gives him a thumbs up before she disappears.

Two weeks later he can pull of a pretty respectable Flare Arrow, at least, and Eris has whispered advice in passing once or twice. 

Maybe she's not so bad.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one trip Zelgadis doesn't get to go on.

"But why can't I come with? Last year, I got to!" Zelgadis' voice comes off more pleading, more _whiny_ than he's probably hoping for, Rezo's rather sure. But even if Zelgadis had been pelting him with well-reasoned and thought-out arguments, he wouldn't have let the boy come with. Not this time, not _now_.

In fact, this time it's utterly imperative that Zelgadis stay behind, for his own safety; at the end of this trip, even if no one else knows it, lies a disease-ridden disaster zone. He won't risk his not-yet thirteen year old grandson, not for this. It's not right, and it's not the right _time_.

Zelgadis isn't old enough.

He frowns, shaking his head, shaking the thought away, because it doesn't matter if Zelgadis is twenty or even sixty. It's not Atlas seven years ago, and while Zelgadis had survived that, there is no guarantee now. He doesn't want to have to use a jar on _this_ child.

"You need to train more before I'm letting you go on the really long trips," he says instead, clutching his staff more firmly. The rings jangle, and Zelgadis shifts.

"But I can---"

"You've fallen behind in your magical studies again, Zelgadis. I know you want to help, and I have no doubt you can and _will_ , but that's not yet. You're staying."

There's a noise, and Rezo sighs.

"Consider this, Zelgadis; I'm leaving you _mostly_ alone in the house until I'm back. What does that tell you?"

Silence. 

He can feel Eris shifting beside him, anxious to leave; he is as well, having planned to be on the road over an hour ago, but this needs to be taken care of. He doesn't actually want to leave for, potentially, months, on a bad note. Not with Zelgadis' experiences, even if he didn't leave his parents on a bad note either. He just doesn't want to add any more unfortunate associations.

"... that you trust me not to get in trouble," Zelgadis finally mutters, quietly enough he almost misses it. Would have, if his hearing wasn't as sharp as it is.

"Exactly," he allows a smile then, and tilts his head, reaching a hand out, "now, I do---" He doesn't finish before Zelgadis darts in and gives him a brief hug - he barely has time enough to lay his hand on Zelgadis' shoulder before the boy is backing off again, but he manages to ruffle his hair to a huffed protest.

"Don't prove me wrong now, Zelgadis." His teasing smile gets a huff and a pointed comment about _leave, already, I know you wanted to have left an hour ago_.

He uses a Vision on Zelgadis' birthday, making sure he's gotten the present he had prepared (Zelgadis' first real sword), and while the boy is clearly unhappy about not spending his birthday together with him, he's pleased and happy enough otherwise. 

He and Eris comes back to Sairaag with the first autumn storm, and Rezo is honestly surprised at how much Zelgadis has grown in these short months that he's been gone, enough so that he _almost_ regrets leaving.

But only almost, because now he has a possible plan in place, in case none of the leads for the Philosopher's stone goes anywhere.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then things ends.

" _Zelgadis... Zelgadis, wake up. You're dreaming._ "

A scream still tangled in his throat, the thunder of his heart in his ears, Zelgadis jerks upright, fighting the covers, and then finally slumps over, hand over his face. The air feels sticky and hot, too much like his dream, and there's a lump in his throat that he can't swallow. He's half-asleep still, remembered crimson shadows tugging at his thoughts, and it takes more than a minute before the hand in his hair is anything more than _familiar_.

Comfortingly familiar and just comforting, even.

Then reality sets in.

Reality which means the hard, smooth curve of the ball of his thumb pressing against the uneven rocks on his jawline, against the unyielding surface (can he even call it skin anymore?) on his cheek. Reality which means the bed protests his weight even when he's perfectly still, and this _after_ it was reinforced yesterday. Reality which means the hand in what's supposed to be his hair has to push to actually card through it.

The Lighting spell above the bed creates soft yellow highlights and hard shadows around them, pulling the plum colour out of the shadows in the hair of the head bent close to his and reveals the pale tan in the cloak haphazardly thrown on and pinned into place around bare shoulders. 

There's an insultingly concerned expression on that regal face. Zelgadis stiffens and feels like he's about to throw up.

"Get out." He chokes on the words, on his own breath, forces himself to swallow against the lump in his throat, his heart speeding up again, erratically.

"Zelgadis..."

" _GET OUT_!"

The hand falls from his hair, but that's _not good enough_ , and he gropes behind him, trying to ignore the way his hand trembles. He finally finds one of the pillows - which looks like its been stabbed several times over - and throws it, using it to push his great grandfather, push _Rezo_ , away. 

He could've punched him. 

Could've done real damage, particularly _now_ , but even as he glares up at the flattening expression as Rezo stands up, he can't... can't imagine doing that.

"All right."

Rezo turns and leaves, closing the door and taking the Lighting with him.

Briefly, there's a wild, desperate desire to call out to his--- to Rezo like he's eight and had a nightmare, to _leave the Lighting, Grandfather, **please** _, or _can I come sleep with you?_ but he's not eight, Rezo is the _reason_ for the drowned-in-red nightmare he just woke up from, the two-day old reality he's now having to live with, and so he says nothing.__

__He doesn't sleep for the rest of the night, staring dully at the wall, clutching his remaining pillow (the other still on the floor where it fell) close to his chest. In the morning, he has to wash dried blood out of wires that make up his hair, and pretends he doesn't see it._ _

__Rezo doesn't try touching him again._ _

__Zelgadis keeps a minimum of two meters between them at all times, and sometimes that hurts, because maybe it's not so bad, he can live like this, if only to be of greater assistance... But then he finds out why Rezo _really_ did this to him, and then, when the man gets even colder, _harsher_ , Zelgadis tells himself this is how he _really_ is, has always been like, and pulls his anger closer to himself._ _

__The nightmares stay, and despite everything, sometimes he still expects (hopes) to wake up to a Lighting hovering above him and a hand in his hair._ _

__Of course, he never does._ _


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zelgadis is thirteen, and Rezo thinks he needs to learn to dance. Zelgadis disagrees.

Glowering at Grandfather's back, Zelgadis makes sure to stomp the whole way to the large room (in a bigger, more... social-minded household, it'd be used for functions and dances), and stops in the doorway, crossing his arms. He tries to control his lower lip as he casts his glare around the room (though it juts out quickly enough despite attempts to the contrary), briefly meeting Eris' gaze.

She frowns and looks away, turning a particularly _liquid_ look at his grandfather instead, and for a moment Zelgadis is torn between a deepening scowl and a grimace of distaste. The woman is getting more and more ridiculous, and at this point Zelgadis isn't sure whether he should be pettily pleased Grandfather doesn't seem to be noticing, or should wish for Eris to say something, or for _Rezo_ to do so, if just to rebuff her.

_Anything_ but this mostly-professional behaviour edged by all these haunted, love-struck _looks_ that his grandfather can't see, the sappy little smiles he can't see _either_ , and the little sighs she sometimes lets lose (those, of course, Grandfather could hear, but whether he does or not he's not sure).

All of which _Zelgadis_ can both see and hear whenever he is in the vicinity, regardless of whether he wants to or not. It's very trying.

"Grandfather, _why_ do I have to do this?" Somehow, he manages to just ask instead of whine, and Zelgadis is probably more proud of that than he should be, studiously avoiding looking at Eris for the moment.

"And if you end up at a function, unable to avoid stepping on a lady's feet because you don't know how to dance, Zelgadis? No, go on. You wouldn't want to potentially disgrace yourself like that, would you?" Grandfather says, turning back towards him, and he can _swear_ there's an amused little smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

"As if _that's_ ever gonna happen," Zelgadis pouts, and then huffs, squirming at the thought of being that close to anyone - squirming in thought of having to stand that close to _Eris_. Which has absolutely nothing to do with what he thinks of her, really, but dancing means extended physical contact and he...

"It will help you with your balance and teach you control over your body as well, Zelgadis. Now go on. Eris is waiting." Now there _is_ a smile, but a kinder one, and Zelgadis can't glower at it. So instead he sighs, shoulders slumping, before he shuffles over to Eris. 

They stare at each other for a long, uncomfortable moment, Eris' gaze flickering from Rezo to him and back before she sighs.

"We'll start simple. A waltz. Do you know where to put your hands?"

Grandfather told him earlier, and he nods, but for a brief moment it's all gone and he just _stares_ , scowling from Eris to his hands until she puffs out a harsh sigh and takes his hands in her own, pulling him close and positioning him.

It takes all of his willpower not to yank his hands back and retreat several steps away, and even squashing that impulse and actually putting his hands where they should be, he's stiff. When Grandfather spells the music to start, he stiffens further.

Eris isn't any better, and it doesn't really get better when she starts going through the first few steps; they're _both_ tense and barely touching each other, and it's all awkward and _dumb_ and---

Zelgadis trips, as usual over his own two stupid feet like what's been happening lately and he's going to bring them both down - Eris steadies him though, and gives him a small, tight smile. Not really relaxed, or sympathetic, but it's not judging. 

Neither of them really want to be here - Zelgadis briefly wonders how his grandfather managed to convince Eris to do this - but at least she's not going to be calling undue attention to when Zelgadis' growing body betrays him and makes him feel stupid.

Taking a breath, Zelgadis frowns and actually tries to pay attention to what she's saying, the way she - and he - is moving (or supposed to be), to the music. It takes until two hours of concentration later before Zelgadis looks up and realises that Grandfather has left them, the spelled music still echoing through the room, and he _should have expected this_ , he's sure. But there's half an hour left until the stipulated lesson is supposed to be over, and Zelgadis refocuses, very, very reluctantly.

It takes three weeks before he has the waltz down, and he can admit to some pride when Eris congratulates him at the end of the dance they finish, and Grandfather's hand is warm on his shoulder.

Then Rezo brings out the _next_ dance he thinks Zelgadis should learn, and Zelgadis' stomach drops.

It takes _half a year_ of this until Rezo's satisfied, and Zelgadis is going to be hearing the ghostly echo of spelled music in his ears for the _rest of his life_.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The several attempts Zelgadis makes to find out where Rezo's lab is.

The first time Zelgadis attempts to find out where Grandfather disappears to, he's six and it's summer and he's visiting Sairaag and Grandfather without his parents for the first time. He knows, of course, that Grandfather has some place - a _lab_ (the word is longer, but it means even less to him than the shortened version) - where he does...

Whatever it is he does there. Zelgadis doesn't know, but he intends to find out.

This is why he's been _very carefully_ not falling asleep tonight, but did a pretty amazing job (if he could say so himself) of _pretending_ to be asleep when Grandfather checked in on him earlier. He'd been waiting for that, since he's pretty sure this is when Grandfather is going to go to... wherever that lab place is.

Carefully, listening hard to try and judge how far down the corridor Grandfather has gotten, Zelgadis slides off the bed, pulling his boots out from under it very, very carefully, and, gripping them in one hand, darts across the floor and out the door. The carpet muffles his probably a bit too eager steps as he hurries down the corridor, determined not to lose Grandfather before he's even left the house.

He pauses at the top of the stairs down into the entrance hall, and has to bite his lip to stifle the grin as the dim lamps light up dark red cloth. He's not too late! On the other hand, it's hard to decide when it's safe to start to go down the stairs; he knows he has to wait until Grandfather has closed the door, otherwise he'll definitely---

"Zelgadis."

The six year old freezes, three steps down the stairs as Rezo stops in the doorway, almost having closed the door. He turns around slowly, unerringly lifting his head towards the top of the stairs.

Zelgadis knows he can't see him, and maybe if he's just _really_ quiet then maybe Grandfather will think he just imagined hearing him...

"I know you're up there, Zelgadis. On the third step down from the top."

Groaning, Zelgadis sits down heavily and lets his boots thump down on the wood, not caring about pouting or the fact that he told himself last week that he's too old to pout. He remains where he is as Grandfather closes the door and retraces his steps. He passes Zelgadis at first, but he stops at the top and holds a hand out.

With a sigh, he takes the offered hand (it's more like a command to, really, Zelgadis knows how adults are), and lets himself be led back to his room and the bed.

"Why aren't you asleep, Zelgadis?" Grandfather asks when the boots are back under the bed and he's under the covers, a hand very briefly running through his hair.

"... I wanted to see the labo... um. Your lab."

Grandfather is silent for several moments, sitting down on the edge of the bed. The rings in the staff jangle quietly as he jostles it, just a little. The noise is comforting, chiming out through the dark bedroom.

"Perhaps later."

Zelgadis doesn't get the chance to try to follow him again; Grandfather sits on the edge of the bed until Zelgadis has fallen asleep, and for the rest of the week Rezo does not leave for the lab. At least, he doesn't as far as Zelgadis is aware.

***  
The second time Zelgadis attempts to find out where the lab is, he's seven and it's after the first heavy snowfall. The layer of snow, thick and fluffy, that has fallen during the night makes Zelgadis smile _really big_ for the first time since--- for the first time _in forever_. 

Grandfather makes sure they've eaten lunch before he lets Zelgadis out to play in it.

His distraction doesn't last long though. Not when the snow angels he's scattered around the garden suddenly remind him of Mom almost tossing herself onto the snow to make some herself, and the snowball he's just carefully finished making, having had half a thought to find Rodimus and see if he could hit him without being spotted, but all he can suddenly think of is the snow dragon he and Dad made last winter and---

The tears burn, icy-hot prickles against his cold cheeks and in the corners of his eyes, and the snowball gets dropped back onto the ground, turning into a little snow hill instead, as he rubs the tears away. They keep coming, though, and suddenly he's just _angry_. 

So very angry, enough that he ignores the burning on his skin from the new well of tears while he pulls up a fallen branch from under the snow underneath one of the trees, intent on hitting the trunk until his 'weapon' _breaks_.

Zelgadis pauses on the first swing, catching sight of Grandfather leaving by the sunroom door, a pale blue cloak over his red robes that makes him almost melt into the white surroundings.

Hot anger and tears still bubbling in his stomach, Zelgadis sniffs and scrubs away both wetness and the frozen crystals caught in his eyelashes. Maybe Grandfather isn't going to the lab, but following him on the off-chance that he _is_ is a better idea than this.

Dropping the branch, Zelgadis turns around and runs off, darting behind the trees and bushes in the garden behind the mansion as he follows his grandfather. He forgets about the last third of the swing that makes the gate at the back of the garden sound like a goblin screaming or something, though. He freezes, and Grandfather stops, then turns around slowly. He stares, not _quite_ at Zelgadis but close enough it's clear he knows who's standing there. Then he sighs and retreats his steps to kneel down in front of him.

"You are getting far too good at avoiding my notice," Grandfather says, something between amusement and exasperation in his voice as he lifts a bare, cold hand - Zelgadis ducks away from it, but the fingertips brush his still-crusty face instead of landing on top of his head. His breath catches when Grandfather frowns, thumb briefly rubbing away the last of the tear tracks.

"Walk with me, if you would, Zelgadis? Old dogs need new perspectives."

"Th-that's not how it goes," Zelgadis says, a watery huff in his voice and he almost starts crying again. Grandfather says nothing, just smiles at him and gives him a moment to scrub his face before he stands up and holds an arm out, offering up space next to him under the cloak, and _that_ is much better than being offered a hand to take while they walk.

***  
Zelgadis' third attempt doesn't come until three years later, when he's almost ten, but he hasn't been _idle_ ; he's been observing and researching. The idea being to figure out where the lab is not just by following Grandfather from start to finish, but trying to figure out where it is so he doesn't need to follow so close behind.

He knows the direction Grandfather leaves in, and by now he's relatively sure the lab is nowhere within Sairaag's city limits. Next, there's all the times he's spotted Rezo disappearing into the Miasma Forest, so he's sure that's not because Grandfather needs something from there - at least not for spells or anything - but either because the lab is somewhere in there, or because it's in Old Sairaag.

Either is equally possible, really, which is why Zelgadis is slipping out of his afternoon lessons to see if he can't find anything around Flagoon. He's... okay, not exactly an expert on navigating the Forest, but he's not terrible either, and he knows, exactly, where his grandfather entered it earlier today (he'd followed him during his lunch and then went back home).

But now it's three hours later, the Forest is so _quiet_ , and Zelgadis has to admit he doesn't have a clue where he is.

Biting his lip, he tilts his head back to peer up into the branches above, but the sunlight doesn't reach this far down, and all he can see is mossy green shadows, branches, and leaves. Unease twists in his stomach as the wind ruffles through the green, whispering something that _almost_ seems like it could mean something. Turning around in a circle, he clutches his practice sword - should've brought the real one Rodimus has just allowed him to start to use, a little - and swallows.

This... had maybe not been such a good idea.

Something crunches, and Zelgadis stiffens, staring around him, through trees and bushes and he could run, maybe, but he's not sure whether the slightly flattened ground that _seems_ to be leading off into the shadows is an actual path or not and---

"Ah!"

Both of them yell, at the same time, Zelgadis stumbling back and hefting the wooden sword up, the young woman backing off, hand up as if attempting to ward any danger off. There's a breathless moment, and then Zelgadis' thundering heart slows a little when nothing happens. 

Dropping his sword to point at the ground, Zelgadis stares up at her. She's tall and slender, wrapped in a pale green cloak that's a bit muddy near the ground and clad mostly in white. The mossy shadows turn her dark hair nearly green instead of black.

"Oh..." she blinks down at him, eyes widening and staring for a moment just like he is, before she frowns, hands on her hips as she speaks, "what are you doing out here? Are you lost?"

Zelgadis opens his mouth and then snaps its closed over the denial. Sullen frustration at having to admit he didn't just fail at doing what he set out to do but that he _needs help_ to just get back home battles with wary relief.

"... no," he says anyway, tries to ignore the pout he knows he's sporting, one which doesn't get any better when the young woman snorts, crossing her arms over her chest and smirks down at him.

"Playing out here seems kind of silly. Do you want to go back to Sairaag with me? You can point out an inn I can stay at."

Surprised that she's apparently not about to lecture him, he nods, cautiously. Even so, he doesn't stick his practice sword back in his belt while he lets her take the lead and hopes she knows the way, because it's good, solid wood and even if she _looks_ kind, Zelgadis isn't stupid.

Well, not any more stupid than he's already been.

It doesn't take three hours to get out of the Miasma Forest and back into Sairaag; it takes half an hour, and as they pass the first few houses, she glances down at him, side-long and Zelgadis knows that look.

"So, where do you live?"

Because that look means he's not getting rid of this adult (well, he's not sure how old she is, but she's clearly old enough to have designated herself the adult here, and his temporary guardian) until he's back with Grandfather.

He's both annoyed and, again, relieved. Apparently she _is_ pretty okay.

"This way," he says and leads the way back home, almost walking right into Grandfather as they turn down the right street twenty minutes later. 

"Grandfather!" the cry slips out before he can check himself, and the frown on Rezo's face is enough to make him flush guiltily - the sudden hand on his shoulder is tight, and he's not squirming out of _that_. He also knows better than to try.

"Zelgadis," Grandfather says, voice clipped, "this is getting out of hand. Thank you." The last, of course, is directed to the young woman, who smiles - and Zelgadis can admit she might be kind of pretty, like that - and shakes her head. She's also peering at Grandfather like she's about to figure something out but doesn't want to take the leap in case she's wrong.

It's kind of funny.

"It wasn't any trouble. I couldn't leave him there, even if he insisted he wasn't lost. Erisiel Vrumugun," she says, sketching a quick little curtsey and dragging the ends of her muddy cloak deeper into the spring-wet and muddy stones of the street. Zelgadis wonders if she said her name only to see if...

"Rezo," Grandfather says pleasantly, his dark frown from earlier having smoothed out somewhat, and the small smile briefly obliterates it completely before it settles back in as he tilts his head down to Zelgadis and his hand tightens on his shoulder, "and my great grandson, Zelgadis."

"Thank you," Zelgadis says before his grandfather can force him to do so, though he's not sure why he bothered - Erisiel gives him only the barest of glances before she's looking at Grandfather, a very intent look on her face. It's kind of like that look Grandfather gets when he's found a new book or something (Rodimus guffawed once when he mentioned it to him, and said _he_ gets a similar look sometimes as well. Zelgadis is sure he was pulling his leg).

"I'm glad I could help," she says, and _Zelgadis_ is glad when she leaves shortly after that, even if he's also honestly grateful to her as well. It's just... for some reason seeing her in front of Grandfather gave him a sense of foreboding...

"Your weapons' lessons are revoked for two weeks, Zelgadis," Grandfather says as he pulls him inside and doesn't let go of his shoulder until the door is closed, and maybe _that's_ what the foreboding was for.

Maybe.

The twilight sun through the windows catches the red stone on top of Grandfather's staff, and for a brief, jangling moment, the chime of the rings doesn't sound as pleasant as it usually does.

"But Grandfather..!"

Zelgadis quickly forgets it in favour of being upset at his punishment.

***  
He's thirteen and pretty sure he knows where Rezo's lab is, but the problem is he keeps being turned around in the ruins of Old Sairaag. With a sigh of annoyance, Zelgadis gives up for the day and starts the long trek back after being turned around for the third time today. He needs someone who knows these ruins better, then he _knows_ he'd be able to find the place.

Maybe in a few years, he's not really in any hurry. 

It's not as if the point any longer really is about anything else but that he wants to be able to say he found the place without help. He's only half curious about what might be in the lab anymore; he's been trying so long now against Grandfather's refusal to even so much as take him there ('it's not _safe_ , Zelgadis'), that he's pretty much doing it out of pure stubborn spite now.

Glancing up at the late afternoon sun before he dives into the Miasma Forest to get back to Sairaag, Zelgadis wonders when Grandfather and Eris will be back. They've been gone for almost two months now, and while he doesn't really feel upset at being left behind any longer, he misses his grandfather.

It's been a few days since he talked to him, so maybe it wouldn't be too wrong to try another Vision now... he can always ask how Taforashia is, since Grandfather said they were a few days from the place in their last conversation.


End file.
